Ranger - 4. The Graduation

May 2020

A little over a month after moving to Heroes Haven, Brad was on his way back to Washington. He asked that someone pick him up in Delaware, so he could attend CJ Abelló’s and Carson Sawyer’s graduation from Georgetown University. CJ’s younger brother volunteered to play chauffer.

“Thanks for picking me up, Ritchie.” Brad climbed aboard the teen’s bright yellow Jeep, Defiant, a hand-me-down named by his older brother. It brought back memories of tooling around while still in high school.

“No problem, bro. But remember it’s Ritch now.” Richard Leonard Peterson was CJ’s half-brother. They shared a mother. Soon after his parents died in a boating accident, the kid moved to Washington to live with his brother and his brother’s fathers.

Brad smirked at the request. “What? You think now that you’re a high school graduate you’re all grown up?” Having lived next to each other for a few years, the two were close. They had their heterosexuality in common. A unique bond for two young men living in otherwise gay households.

“First, I’m not a grad yet. A couple more weeks and I’ll be done.” While CJ had gone to public school with Brad, the younger sibling attended the exclusive Sidwell Friends School. “Second, this is the perfect time to change. I’m not gonna know anyone in Colorado Springs.” The teen would be a cadet at the Air Force Academy in the fall.

Brad rolled his eyes; things like nicknames seemed silly these days. He recalled how much he hated being called Red because of his hair color. In time, it became a badge of honor, as he embraced his appearance, and bragged about being a ginger. “Whatever… But I do appreciate you coming out to pick me up.”

“My pleasure. Really. I’m going to miss driving once I get to school.”

The remark surprised and confused Brad. “I thought you were taking Defiant out to Colorado.”

“I am. But I’m leaving it in Vail.” César Abelló and Brett Davenport owned a home in the ski resort all their group’s members had visited at one point or another. “Doolies aren’t allowed vehicles at the Academy or even anywhere in town.”

“That’s a new one for me. Doolie a freshman?”

“Yep. Either that or smacks.”

“That one’s prolly ’cause all the upperclassmen will be smacking you on the back of the head whenever you screw up.”

“Sucks to be me, man. I’m going from BMOC to grunt faster than Mach One. And I won’t even be able to punch anyone if they piss me off unless it’s in the ring.” Ritch was an avid boxer, having started training before he was even a teen. He expected to be a member of the Falcons boxing team and represent the United States Air Force Academy in National Collegiate Boxing Association matches.

“Small price to pay, dude. That’s how I felt when I started basic training and again when I went through Ranger School. The instructors treated us like shit. A few recruits washed out unable to take the pressure. Those of us that survived the ordeal became stronger and closer to each other. Nothing like breaking a man down before rebuilding him to create a tight bond with those going through the same shit. I know you’ll survive.”

CJ explained he was the highest-ranking, elected member of the Georgetown University Student Association in the 2020 Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service graduating class. Because of his position, he was Invited to sit on the dais during commencement exercises—an honor he declined.

Wanting to be with his classmates, not above them, was the explanation he offered campus newspaper reporters. He did not bother to share why when he confirmed he would be speaking to the assembled graduates nonetheless.

That other reason was the cause for the applause and cheering as he climbed the raised platform’s steps after his introduction. Wearing noise-canceling earmuffs, his daughter, Liebe, clung to his gown snug inside a papoose hanging against his chest.

“Yeah, see? I knew this would happen,” he said as soon as he reached the microphone. “Y’all are just paying attention to Liebe and no matter what I say, you’re not gonna care.” Laughter rippled through the audience. “Although today is a momentous occasion, the most important day in my life was about a month ago when my daughter was born. I’d like to introduce you to Elizabeth Liston Abelló. Georgetown University class of 2042.”

With the audience’s applause and cheering as a soundtrack, he walked to the edge of the riser and handed the baby and carrier to Owen. CJ watched him walk away for a moment before returning to the podium and extracting a sheaf of papers from his blazer. “By the way, the good-looking, blond dude I just handed the most important person in my life to is her other father.” He paused for a fraction of a second. It allowed the comment to sink in. “He happens to be the second most important person in my life. My husband, Owen Liston.” The reaction from the audience was a tad more sedate than when he introduced his daughter.

Cristina Pereira, sitting between her brother and Brad, chuckled. “CJ has chutzpa! I can’t believe he just announced he was married to another man in a graduation speech at the top Catholic university in the country.”

“You’re just now noticing?” A smirk accompanied Brad’s question. “Hell, I knew that about him before I even met him. And the Irish of Notre Dame may object to their school not being your choice as top Catholic university.”

“Bah! Who cares what they think.” Cristina waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “So, how come you knew what he was like before you met him?”

“My grandfather. You remember the weekend you and I first met?” It had taken place at an apartment in New York City, and since then Brad had been infatuated with the raven-haired woman next to him. “That was also the first time my brother and I had seen our dad in years. And it was all thanks to CJ. I’m surprised you don’t know that story.”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces from my brother but never the entire thing.”

By unspoken agreement, Brad and Cristina interrupted their conversation to pay attention to their friend’s speech and the remainder of the commencement exercises. While the graduates posed for countless pictures with family and friends afterwards, Brad seamlessly picked up the chat’s thread.

“Think about it now: you, your brother, CJ, my brother, and I all got to meet because we all have a gay father. The one thing my homophobic grandfather despised.” Brad shook his head again, still finding it hard to comprehend the Kennedy patriarch’s actions.

“So, Dad came out and from what I can remember Mom was okay with it when he asked for a divorce. She’s always been understanding of other people. In contrast, my grandfather blew his top, told Dad he was no longer his son, and convinced the entire family to isolate him.”

“What a jerk. And you reconnected because of CJ?”

“Yeah… Dad was shot and ended up in the hospital. CJ had recently moved to Washington and had become attached to his fathers’ friends. One of them was my dad. So, Dad’s in the hospital, and CJ decided to spend the night because he was terrified one of his new uncles was going to die.

“Anyway, unaware of the family battles, the police department contacted my grandparents to let them know what was going on. They drove from Boston to Washington and showed up at the hospital in the middle of the night. And get this, they had a priest with them. Dad was a sinner and they were sure he was about to die. Hell-bent on the priest administering last rites, they ran into CJ. Talk about an unstoppable force meeting an immovable wall.” Brad threw his head back and laughed. “At least that’s the story I heard.

“CJ wouldn’t allow any of the Boston people near my dad. The mighty Francis Kennedy ran back to Massachusetts with his tail tucked between his legs. His efforts shot down by a fifteen-year-old gay boy. After Mom heard what had happened, she encouraged me and my brother to call. When I did, I ended up talking to CJ first—he was in the room. I guess screening calls. We hit it off right way. Anyone with the balls to slam my grandfather down had to be okay, right?”

Cristina giggled. “You and your friends are all rabble rousers. I’m not surprised you get along so well.”

“Hey! Watch it, lady. No name calling.” Brad was enjoying himself even more than he had expected. Cristina was easy to talk to.

The stroll down 37th and Prospect Streets was short. Brad’s fathers’ house, and CJ’s dads’ place next to it, were only two blocks away from the campus’ main entrance. While Brad went to his own home, most of the crowd congregated next door for pre-luncheon cocktails. The army veteran needed a little time to use the restroom and adjust his legs. The stumps were throbbing and he needed to deal with that. Fifteen minutes of rest later, he rejoined the festivities.

“Can you believe there are three babies in our group already?” Patrick Kennedy, two years younger than his brother, pointed at the small cluster of people. Cristina, her daughter Carolina, and her brother, Chipper; CJ, Owen, and their daughter, Liebe; and Thiago Baravento and his son Fabricio appeared in good spirits. Peals of laughter peppered their conversation.

“Don’t look at me for the next one.” Brad raised his hands in a defensive posture and shook his head. “I gotta finish learning how to walk again before I can even consider teaching a toddler how to.”

“How are you, Brad? We barely had a chance to talk last night.” Patrick, a student at Boston University, had flown in the previous day and arrived at about the same time Ritch delivered Brad to the shared driveway between their homes. Their father, Tom, and Tom’s husband, JP, insisted the four have dinner together. Afterwards, they drifted next door for pre-graduation festivities.

The care and concern Patrick showed made Brad feel lucky. “I’m okay, bro. You know, some days are better than others. I’m still talking to a counselor, and I’m still doing physical therapy. Now I have this documentary to work on, and it’s a good thing. It’s given me a new purpose. At least through the end of the year.”

“You’re gonna film through December?”

“Nah, only six months. I should be back in Washington sometime in September. But then I’ll have to do the narration. Anne, the director, said once they start editing, they’ll also start working on the script. She said it would probably take a day or two to record everything. And that’ll be in New York. Maybe you can come down when I’m up there? It’d be fun to have a brothers’ weekend in Manhattan.”

“Yeah, maybe, let me know when you have dates. I’m gonna stay in Boston this vacation, okay?” The previous year, Patrick had given up a summer job in Massachusetts, so he could be around while Brad recovered from his injuries.

“Oh hell yeah. You don’t need to babysit me. You got something lined up?”

“Not sure… Listen, I haven’t told anyone else, but I think I want to become a priest and work with kids.”

When Patrick had said he wanted to study theology, Brad suspected his brother would eventually enter the priesthood. The confirmation did not surprise him. “As long as you don’t turn into one of those our grandparents worship…”

“Nope. Not Catholic. Episcopalian. They don’t have an issue with me being gay. And if I ever meet somebody, I could even get married. What about you? What are the post-documentary plans?”

“Well, whenever it gets released, I’ve promised to do interviews and attend a couple of showings.” Brad stared at his hand as he scraped away the beer bottle’s label with a fingernail. “Then, I’m not sure. I wanna get back in shape.

“It’s been a little over a year since I lost my legs, the most difficult year of my life so far.” At times, he had questioned whether the effort to recover was worth it. The encouragement from family and friends had seen him through those dark moments. “You know what I’ve been missing recently? Lacrosse practice. Running and burpees.” Brad threw his head back and chuckled. “How fucked is that?”

“Actually, that sounds good. It can motivate you to once again do what you enjoy.”

“I want that after-practice pain back, Paddy.” Brad’s use of Patrick’s childhood nickname elicited a grin from the younger sibling, Not many people used it these days. “Rehab’s been a bitch, but as soon as I’m sufficiently stable on the sticks, I’m getting blades and running again. I’m also thinking about college.”

“Really?”

Laughter bubbled inside Brad’s chest until exploding out of him. “Don’t sound so surprised. I may not be as smart as you, but I get by.”

“Jerk! That’s not what I was surprised about. I know you’re intelligent enough. But aren’t you the same man who claimed after high school you wouldn’t step into a classroom again?”

Brad sobered up and his grin faded. “Yeah, well, lots’ changed. I’m not that person anymore. I think I want to be a cop. I wanna study criminology. I’d love to work for the FBI.”

“Then you need to talk to Lincoln.” Patrick turned around until he found the person he was searching for. “That’s him.” He pointed at a man who appeared to be closer to seven feet than six, and nearer to 300 pounds than 200. “I talked to him some last night. Interesting guy and very friendly.”

“Yeah, I bet he was friendly. I know he’s gay, so he prolly wanted to jump your bones.” Brad was unable to avoid the punch his brother threw at his arm. “Hey! No violence. But you may be on to something. I’ve met him before, and he’s definitely cool. Thanks for the suggestion, bro.”